


A Life of One's Own

by orangejewelbug



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Doctor Who Fusion, Conflict, F/F, Fluff, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loneliness, Parenthood, Personal Growth, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8420713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangejewelbug/pseuds/orangejewelbug
Summary: This story, instead of looking back over the history of Vastra and Jenny, focuses forward to their future. Say, after a steady five years of working at the Yard, post-Deep Breath.- A child is involved (trope? It's a trap!). In fact, they're a major player.- Particular issues of growing up with these two ladies as parents are explored- Themes of finding one's own place (as an oddfish) in the world, community, culture, family, and time are incorporated.- Hopefully some not-too-sappy feels and giggles are experienced too :3It's my first time, so go easy - but constructively ;)<<>>Note: At the moment the chapters are presented as moments-in-life snapshots, but hopefully I can develop an overall lifetime coherence to the story.Note Note: I'm not looking for canonical perfection, as frankly, I haven't seen (or read) the whole series... yet.





	1. The Conception of a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting the scene:
> 
> After considering a surprising but earnest offer from the Doctor to his oldest friend and her wife, Vastra and Jenny request the Doctor's presence to give him their reply.
> 
> Their life has been jam-packed and challenging as ever, and yet there is a strange stability to their daily and investigatory routines. The two are considering a change in living arrangements.

The Doctor's face and body had changed once again. And yet, Jenny observed that with each transition there remained a constant light in his eyes: a bright, curious, incisive, reflective, and quirky spark. There was also that same sadness and mournful loneliness, too. Perhaps it had even deepened, she noticed, and spread further than the last body could contain.

But in an instant, all hint of melancholy was instantly flushed away, as the Doctor clumsily plonked himself onto the sitting room couch with a heavy thud. 

"Caw, you girls!" he groaned, gingerly rubbing the small of his back. "You know I can get you some much more comfortable furniture than this rock hard Victorian rubbish. Ow! Remind me, next time I'm bringing you a proper lounge suite, creating a massive bonfire, and setting light to this flammable concrete block."

"Concrete?" Vastra and Jenny both queried, bemused, as they settled into the two opposite armchairs; one a large woven cane, the other an ornately carved cherry wood.

"Oh, it's just the 20th century's descendent from this lump of building material - never mind." He responded, shooting a dirty glance at the sturdy wooden frame underneath him. "Blimey, I need a cuppa after that. Thanks Vastra - the usual please.. ah one more lump actually.. Sod it, I'll go another one, why not? Lovely, cheers girls. Ah, that's better." He sipped and sighed. "So, the new me apparently craves really sweet foods. Never thought I'd be facing a future combating the dreaded diabetes." He rolled his eyes, in a half-hearted huff.

Vastra, having known her oldest friend for many, many years, was more than accustomed to the Doctor's irregular, if somewhat abrupt, physical transformations. _Despite all the changes,_ she noted drily to herself, _he's never really mastered that dithering and waffling talk of his_. She grinned inwardly at her wry observation.

While such identity switches were hardly noteworthy for Vastra - she always taking them in her stride - Jenny on the other hand still found the changeovers a little disconcerting. Especially since the Doctor was always so familiar in his behaviour and manners.

 _Blimey, it's like meeting a stranger who knows every in'imate detail of y'life._  Banishing the shiver down her spine, Jenny quickly quashed the thought.  _Still, e's always got the same ol' eyes an' warm heart, doesn' he? Well, hearts, I s'pose_. She chuckled to herself.

As Vastra cradled her own steaming cup of tea in her hand, she carefully reached her other over to place it on Jenny's, and looked questioningly into her eyes, nerves rising. Jenny nodded briefly, in unspoken encouragement, and both turned back to face the Doctor. Vastra lightly squeezed Jenny's hand as she took a deep breath, and addressed her ancient friend.

"Doctor, it's lovely to see you again and looking very well adjusted to your new body. Regeneration, as ever, becomes you." She opened, smiling a little stiffly, a subtle sign of her mild agitation. "Thank you for taking the time to answer my request to come and see us. We know you are habitually very occupied, so we greatly appreciate your coming in person."

"Oh, come on now Vas, enough with the formalities." The Doctor gently scoffed. "I'm always happy to see you two lovely ladies, even if time is a bit tight. We _are_ friends!"  _Even with Jenny's softening influence around,_ he sniggered _, Vastra still acts as if she's got a particularly straight pole strapped to her back_. _Especially when something important's on her mind._

He quipped. "Anyway, it just so happens I've got a spare tick before my next job, now. So, c'mon, out with it. What's on your minds?"

Vastra stirred. "Well, as you know, Jenny and I have been working continuously in and around Victorian London for the last few years - of course with the continued, ahem, help of Strax. While we are very content with our life, we have also, paradoxically, come to realise a sense of restlessness. We feel it is time that perhaps we review our situation, or current living arrangements, as it were." Here, Vastra's scales seemed to deepen slightly into a darker, forest green.

The Doctor just smiled dumbly between the two of them. "Splendid! I always reckon it's a great idea to change the scenery every now and then. I always redo the TARDIS' décor after I regenerate, s'like living in a whole new place, really. 'Cept you still have yer same old woman hanging about, er, of course…"

He dribbled to a halt, realising his inference in context of his friends. "Not that I mean you two would be sick of living with each other after all this time, erm, because I don't think you would be, you two are a perfect couple, um, you've been together for ages! But not like ages as in 'too long' ages, or 'at each other's throat' ages. I mean, you're always fighting each other, erm, fighting crime _with_ each other, I mean. Er, dear me.." A warm blush was blooming over his cheeks as he continued to excavate an uncomfortably spacious hole for himself. 

Jenny had to stifle a snort at the Doctor's self-induced discomfort, but quickly gave into her compassionate nature and decided to pull him out of his misery - with his dignity intact:

"S'alright, Doctor, we know what you mean' ta say. We both did knowingly choose to spend a very, very long time with each other when we went an' got ourselves wedded. It feels like ages, sometimes, an' in the best way. Bu' blimey, do we know how to fight each other when we get in a rage!" She chuckled and smiled warmly at him, offering a graceful exit from his awkward predicament.

Then she turned to Vastra. "No, we're still very 'appy with the 'ouse as it is, an' Vastra still keeps a good eye on Strax's destructive ways." A muffled crashing from a room a few doors down confirmed the Sontoran's "spudlian" presence. Vastra closed her.

The Doctor, ever marvelling at Jenny's unlikely talent for tact and grace (especially given her upbringing, or lack of a proper one), smiled kindly in return and gratefully cooled his cheeks to a lesser shade of red.

"As Jenny mentioned, Doctor, we aren't interested in any changes to our house's condition." Vastra redirected the conversation to its original intent. "We've been discussing with each other your latest proposition, if you recall it."

A moment's pause of consternation, trying to remember his last "proposition" to the girls, when he perked up and broke into a wide, devilishly cheeky grin. "Oh yes, I recall it. Have you come to any conclusion on the matter?"

"Yes, we have.. and we would be delighted to take you up on your offer. Now appears the best time as any."

"And the agreement regarding my pending position still stands?" He tilted his head, eyebrow cocked, waiting for the final confirmation. 

"Yes. It still stands." Vastra burst out into a radiant smile. Jenny was beaming, simply glorious.

If the Doctor's smile could've stretched any further beyond its functional musculature capabilities, it would have.

"Woo.. HOOO!!!" He whooped and thrust his arms into the air, leaping up from the couch to pull both Vastra and Jenny up from their chairs into a crushing embrace.

"You two are going to be parents! I'm going to be an uncle!!"

Giving in to the joyous relief of the moment, despite its prematurity, they burst out laughing, danced, jumped and hugged each other closely while tears of happiness unashamedly fell from each face.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola!  
> Recently coming across the storyline of Vastra & Jenny, I've been wooed and swept up by many great fanfics to do a bit of writing myself. 
> 
> I'm happy writing ideas just for myself, but it'd be a fun kick to know if other fanfickers read and enjoy imagining about this too. :)
> 
> Feel free to comment!


	2. The Conception of a Dream - pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How on Earth do you reasonably explain the scientific possibility of creating a child exclusively from the DNA of two people of the same-sex?
> 
> This is where the Doctor's proposition comes into play, and the two find themselves in the late 21st century where the reproductive technology is ripe for harvesting womb-fruit.
> 
>  
> 
> Note:  To being with, not all of it was released together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In true wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey fashion, I've inserted this latest chapter between the previous two.
> 
> I've also delved into reproductive genetics a little here - but have (hopefully) kept it fairly straightforward and not too dense for reading.

"Alright girls, time to go and make a baby!" The Doctor unceremoniously pushed forward the apprehensive but stoically determined Jenny and Vastra. Both women turned their heads to glare darkly at the insufferably smug and dapperly dressed man standing behind them.

"Not helping, Doctor." Jenny shot out stiffly from the side of her mouth. Her stiffness of manner may have been due to nerves, but more reasonable would be the modern change of dress she presently found herself in. A maroon collared blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, shod by kitten heel pumps, and topped off with a precariously loose French knot - Jenny looked a little more than uncomfortable.  _Bleedin' 'ell, the bleedin' 21st century just makes women's clothes even more bleedin' impractical!_  She cursed to herself. 

"Sure I'm helping, Jen. You two looked like you needed a little shove, is all." The Doctor grinned devilishly.

"We can still revoke your right to be an uncle, you know.." Vastra muttered inaudibly. Her face was obscured by a forward-slanting, wide-brimmed sunhat serving as her contemporary perception filter. A high collared and well-fitted navy jacket, covered a coral lace-lined singlet, with high waisted black skinny jeans, and black leather flats. 

"Why'd you get to wear the bleedin' comfortable shoes?" Jenny grumbled through her teeth as she wobbled on her footing.

"At least your knees still bend like they ought. These scale-tight trousers are like those Sontoran leg-lock traps Strax leaves lying around!" Vastra retorted sulkily. 

"Come now, you lot. You have to look the part! We ain't in Victorian London anymore." He came up between them for a dual shoulder pat. " 'Sides, these were some clothes Clara left behind, so I thought they might, you know…" Here the Doctor's voice and eyes trailed off, as if suddenly  engulfed by a particularly painful memory.

Jenny, having met Clara a number of times, understood the close relationship that the Doctor had with his former companion (as he had with all of his previous companions, she guessed). Not wanting him to lapse into a melancholic silence, she sought to divert his thoughts back to the present; future; present-future. Whatever.

"Doctor, what was that you were sayin' about our furniture being rock hard, or somethin' like that? You mentioned somethin' found in the 20th century, an' seeing's as how we're in the late 21st I wondered if we might still be lucky enough to see some."

Vastra, sensing her wife's intentions, joined in. "Yes, I believe it was something about our furniture possessing similar physical qualities to a substance known as concrete."

Waking out of the mournful reverie, the Doctor regained consciousness to the now. "What? Lucky enough to see some? Hah!" Here he coughed out a genuine laugh. "My girls, virtually everything you see here is made of concrete. Look."

The Doctor waved his arms perfunctorily to point out the concrete pavement underneath their feet, two nearby concrete seating benches, a concrete telephone pole, the concrete flight of stairs in front of them, leading to a concrete rendered building, neighboured by similarly concrete constructed apartments. 

"It's a real concrete jungle alright. What'd I tell yer?"

Relieved that the Doctor had been sufficiently distracted from his painful thoughts, Jenny could now see the validity of his statement. She fervently wished the furniture inside the buildings was not made of concrete.

<That was a kind decision of you to cheer him, dear.> Vastra sent a warm psychic message to Jenny, standing within a close enough proximity to communicate.

<It wouldn't matter either way, but he has taken us to a future when he knows it can help us conceive our baby. He's a big part of our happiness. I hate to see him so torn up.> 

Returning to vocal speech, Vastra recounted an observation that occurred to her. "In the underground chambers, Silurians used the natural rock face and stone quarried nearby to build our dwellings and government offices; those materials being the most heat resistant and readily available. Although, above-ground we did have a compound that would dry to a very similar consistency to concrete when mixed with water. We used it for our hunting dwellings, but mainly for our meat drying rooms."

A stark and vivid image seared itself into Jenny's mind. Without a doubt, she knew that the vision of dangling, skinned human corpses left hung to dry - much like cows or pigs in a butchery - would henceforth exist in her mind inextricably paired with concrete.

"Thanks for that detail, Vas." Acknowledged Jenny sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"I'm only stating the facts. It's not like your species hasn't practised similar customs but to your _own_ kind before." Replied Vastra, a little defensively. 

"Alright, alright! Go on girls, enough o' yer time wasting!"  The Doctor interceded mock-sternly. "You'll be late for your appointment."

Bringing themselves back to the anxiety-tinged present, the couple turned forward again to face the building, their nerves resurfacing.

Sightlessly seeking each other's hands, they linked each other's little fingers and gently tugged. Solidarity re-bolstered, they took a deep breath, and walked up the concrete steps to the sleek and architecturally provoking façade of the London Institute of Reproductive Therapy.

The double doors automatically swung inwards as the two approached, causing a momentary jump of alarm from Jenny. If she hadn't had any experience before now of travelling through time, exposing herself to advanced foreign technology, she would've crossed herself and mumbled something about protection against witchcraft. Instead, she joked to herself: _Automatic butlers, hah! These'd put Strax out of a job._  

"I'll see you ladies at four o'clock sharp, then, ok!" The Doctor saluted emphatically. "And I'll be expecting a fresh bun in the oven, too."

 _That Doctor…,_ Vastra drily warned. And with that, she and Jenny took their first steps into their increasingly plausible parenthood.

✹✹✹

 

"Good morning, Mrs and Mrs.. Hm… that's interesting." The professor haltingly stopped, a look of deep concern hung across his features as he flicked his eyes to the women in front of him and back to regard the top section of his clipboard.

Thrown by the professor's pause mid-speech, Vastra mentally recoiled, rapidly interpreting the professor's hesitation as a slight on their same-sex marriage; quickly her hackles began to rise. Regret instantly began to build against hers and Jenny's contemplation of ever coming to the future, hoping to ally themselves with a more sexually fluid society who could non-judgementally support them with their desired pregnancy. _These apes are the same bigoted, hypocritical, and hateful creatures no matter what stage of their pitiful history I find them in!_

Feeling a burgeoning fury rise inside her wife, sat alongside her, Jenny flashed out her hand upon Vastra's knee to give a firm squeeze of assurance and steadiness. 

<'Salright dear, let's just wait and see what he says, first. Please.> Jenny psychically pleaded.

"Please excuse me, ladies, I do apologise for my inattentive manners. It's just that I've never encountered the name of Vastra until now. How fascinatingly unusual. Where did the name come from, may I ask?" Unfettered curiousity shone from his eyes, with no hint of malice or disdain whatsoever.

Taken aback by his sincere question, Vastra flushed at her instinctively harsh judgement of the man's character. "I, well - that is quite alright. There was no crime to forgive. Thank you. In fact, mine is actually a family name, passed on for generations from grandmother to daughter, through my maternal line. However, I am the first daughter in ten generations to bear it as my primary name."

The professor whistled at the length of her extensive family line. "Hm, that makes it seem almost Jewish, then.. Well, isn't that curious indeed. It certainly sounds very exotic, but I suppose if it's been in the family for ten generations it can't really be, can it?" He smiled to himself, incredulously.

Vastra smiled politely, overlooking his misunderstanding of ten generations being the implied extent of her family line. It reached much farther than that.

"Now then, Mrs and Mrs Vastra and Jenny Flint. I've read in your documents that you are considering having a child together. That is wonderful for you both, congratulations on this important relationship decision! How can I be of the best assistance and respond to your fertility questions?" 

"Well, professor,"  Jenny started, cautiously but gaining in confidence, "as you said, Vastra an' I would dearly love to have a child of our own. Except, we really don't understand or know what our options are, you see."

"Excellent, well that part's the easiest, believe it or not.  Your options will depend on who will be carrying the infant for the duration of the pregnancy. Do you have a surrogate, or will either of you be carrying to full term?"

"Erm.." unfamiliar with the concept of surrogacy, but certain to which of them will be undergoing the pregnancy, Jenny replied, "I will be the one carrying the baby." 

"Wonderful. And as far as the semen sample is concerned, do you have a donor in mind: an anonymous person, close male friend or relative? Or would you be considering our gamete re-packaging therapy option?"

Somewhat flabbergasted by the number of choices, Jenny refused to allow her lack of knowledge to withdraw her mentally from the conversation, paying respect to her natural and keenly trained faculties.

"Well, I'm afraid we don't 'ave a bloke in mind for that, because were informed that it was possible for us to avoid the need for a man, by other means. This is the case, I hope?"

"Ah, I have good news for you both there. Our Gamete Re-Packaging Therapy pathway, or GRT for short, matches exactly your intentions to bypass a semen donor."

Familiar with certain aspects of genetic selectivity, utilised by her people for breeding virile and more physically robust ape stock, Vastra was intrigued by the title and its unrevealed mechanisms. She listened on intently.

"For many same-sex couples, like yourselves, who wish to create offspring combining only their own genetic material, recent fertility science has created an innovative means of repackaging one partner's DNA into the opposite sex's gamete type. This thereby allows the successful co-mingling of genetic material from each same-sex partner to produce a viable offspring." Here he paused, and receiving encouraging nods of assent to continue, he went on.

"In other words, we can take a sample of your DNA, Vastra, by means of egg or gamete collection (or, if necessary, we can generate your own eggs from blood-sourced DNA). We then liberate the genetic material, the DNA, from within these haploid gamete cells - these are your female egg cells, ready and waiting to join with a partner's sperm cell. Once having extracted Vastra's egg's DNA, we then "re-package" that genetic material into the form of a sperm."

The two women were clearly enthralled by the process, and this delighted the professor to have found such emotionally and intellectually invested parents who clearly wanted to learn as much as they could about their child's conception. Most of his patients appeared bored or glazed over at this point, impatient to 'take' their child right now.

"For this to happen, we use one of our reproductive bio-organs - a _male_ bio-organ in this circumstance - to incorporate Vastra's genetic material into spermatogenesis. This is the sperm maturation process that would naturally occur within the male testes, and cloaks-and-tails the cells to look like a normal sperm would.

"After a complete maturation cycle, you both would be the possessors of a seminiferous fluid filled with sperm that contain only Vastra's DNA. These are ready for fertilisation, and indeed one of these lucky little 'she-fellows' (as I like to call them, I hope you'll excuse me) will be joined with and fertilise one of Jenny's eggs when her body is ready to release it from her ovaries. Then you can produce a new life; an embryo, foetus, infant and child!"

He beamed excitedly for them.  Jenny returned the smile, astounded that a medical expert could be so openly caring, let alone interested, in a patient's life. Moreover, she was awed, and simply marvelled at the ability to have a child with only Vastra's and her genetic input. 

"Fascinating. Simply, fascinating." Vastra's eyes were gleaming, busily visualising the overall enhanced reproductive process. 

"But how have you managed to create an organ - assumedly it is bio-synthetic or genetically modified - to utilise introduced genetic material and produce sperm? And how would two females be able to conceive a male offspring, lacking the necessary Y-chromosome?" Vastra asked, in a quandary.

Here, the professor winced painfully. "In relation to your well-considered questions, I regret I can not divulge the answers to you. I do sincerely apologise. Creating male offspring from female-female DNA is possible, however it is considerably more involved and labour intensive, and currently unavailable to the commercial market. As for producing bio-organs, that is a heavily-guarded industry secret. It pains me to withhold information from such a keen mind as your own, but I am legally bound  to protect its secrets."

Having detected no trace of condescension or flattery, Vastra resigned her curiosity to the laws made by the profiteering elite - those who savagely protect the production secrets of their goods, lest their competition obtain market-equalising information. It was frustrating, but in no way was she desirous to see this helpful and considerate professor unfairly prosecuted for the sake of her scientific nitpicking. "Ah. Well, there must be some cards held close, I suppose." Nodding her head to him in unoffended understanding.

Nevertheless, she remained rapt by the technology. Researchers of her own people had been on the precipice of developing these kinds of reproductive advances, until urgent preparations for the predicted "apocalypse" halted any societal progress. The apes had been concurrently occupied by learning how to crack nuts with rocks. 

 _Clever monkeys_ , she conceded. A daring ounce of respect for the intelligence of the collective human species was beginning to gain hope for ground in Vastra's opinion of them.

Jenny, of course, had always been her exception.

✹✹✹

 

"Welcome back, Mrs and Mrs Flint. Please take a seat." The professor greeted the pair as they entered his office, once again. "Now, since you both have decided to take the Gamete Re-packaging Therapy pathway, today we will be collecting genetic material from Vastra to produce our seminiferous fluid. As we discussed previously, this means we will be collecting ovum from Vastra in the surgery room today."

"I believe we hadn't agreed upon that, professor." Here Vastra spoke her concern at his assumption. "You mentioned a blood-sourced alternative in place of harvesting live eggs. I would prefer the blood-sourcing method."

Wearing a perception filter to obscure her true physical identity was a fairly straightforward affair for Vastra - it allowed people to see what they wanted to, a human, without physically transforming any part of her body. However, the proposed operation on her person would require the professor coming into direct contact with her genitalia, and while a perception filter would change their appearance into that of a female human adult, the professor would very quickly discover that things were not as they ought to be. She would not expose her true reptilian reproductive organs and thereby her true identity. She could not yet put faith into his integrity. No, egg collection was completely out of the question.

"I am impelled by law to inform you of the blood sourcing option, relevant for people who may have intrinsic sterility issues. However, in practise we strongly advise individuals who are healthy and sexually intact against this pathway."

He continued, earnestly. "I must explain, the reason being due to the age of parental DNA found in cells outside the reproductive organs. In true gametes, those produced naturally in the ovaries or testes, the cells are new, full of vitality and youth. This is predominately due to the length of their telomeres - these are an excess of unused DNA that act as bookends to protect your DNA. Each cell contains a single copy of your DNA, and each time a cell replicates over a lifetime, these bookend telomeres become increasingly shorter; a small piece is chopped away from the telomere, each time that cell replicates. After hundreds and thousands of replications in a lifetime, eventually your functional DNA gets eaten into and deteriorates, severely compromising your normal and healthy bodily functions - causing disease.

"Using your blood Vastra, your child would be born genetically the same age as you are, and we would expect her to have a vastly reduced lifetime, with earlier onset of particular chronic diseases - such as cancer at the age of twenty. Your child would inherit your genetic deterioration, yours being well advanced already. We do not yet have the technology to lengthen telomeres in DNA obtained from blood. I do not want to provide you with a child, only to have them snatched away from you all too soon."

Vastra understood his professional and personal anxiety, and was touched that he would assert himself so strongly against what to him must appear to be a very unwise and unnecessary choice.

"Please hear me," Vastra responded. "I truly thank you and appreciate your deep concern over the future wellbeing of our child. But I must impress upon you my decision to not have my ovum extracted. My GRT source shall be from my blood, and that collected at the hands of my wife. I pray that you will understand and respect my seemingly heedless and heartless wishes in the matter."

Jenny was quick to mediate and smooth the tensions caused by this uncompromising stand-off. "We do 'ave our private reasons, professor, for not using Vastra's eggs. And I'm afraid my wife doesn't trust anyone to put a needle to her, except me - an' that only when it's no longer avoidable."

Jenny understood that Vastra could not reveal her true identity to the professor; lest she be detained against her will for scientific investigation. The Doctor had assured the two of his trust in this particular professor of gene therapy, but they both could not fully trust a human, a male, to keep his or his staff's potentially exploitative inquisitiveness or otherwise contained. Instead they had compromised, and trusted that when the gene analytics team analysed Vastra's blood, they would not be legally authorised to conduct a thorough examination of her reptilian, _homo reptilia,_ DNA.

 "Anyhow, I've always said she's got young blood. Never looks a day over 30, she does." She winked playfully between Vastra and the professor.

Appreciating his client's sovereignty over her own body, the professor accepted Vastra's decision and Jenny's ambiguous explanation. He quickly moved on, anxious to maintain the excellent rapport and trust they had developed. This was their moment of decision as future parents, and it must be theirs. His role was ultimately to inform and facilitate.

✹✹✹

 

"I must say, it's.. Well, it seems..  I'm speechless."  Like an elevator ascending, the professor's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as he read through the DNA analyses of Vastra and then Jenny. 

"It would be excessive to call it miraculous, but both of your preliminary blood tests reveal that your telometrics - er, the length of your telomeres - are far above the adult average of your age group, even above those of an average five year old! It's like you haven't aged a day in your _life_."

Still recovering from the shock, the professor finished reading the health report and blood analysis. "Well, I think I can gladly eat my own words of warning, and hereby fervently endorse your decision for blood-sourced genetic material." He nodded good-heartedly to Vastra, laughing almost giddily, clearly perplexed by the results.

Vastra grinned in return, pleased at his newfound and independently-sourced peace of mind. Millions of years ago, when the ancient Silurian forebears branched away from their ancestral cousins (the primary ' _homo'_ genus of the time), an evolutionary mutation appeared in their DNA. This quirk had gradually allowed a change in a particular enzyme responsible for the repair of DNA. This newly adapted enzyme could _restore_ a telomere's length, when any cell in the body replicated.

This mechanism allowed Silurians to protect their DNA for much longer than their ' _homo'_ genus counterparts, and hence safeguard themselves against various chronic diseases; various cancers, neural deterioration, chronic-inflammatory damage and heart disease. Consequently, Silurian lifespans were dramatically increased, far outliving _homo sapiens_ by multiple lifespan equivalents. In fact, it was this "evolutionary" technology that Vastra and the Doctor had worked on together to develop a natural means of extending Jenny's lifespan.

" 'Ey there, what did I tell you Vas? You've always had young blood. Although you didn't need all those tests to confirm that - I could've told you that you act like a five year old!" Jenny broke into mischievous giggling, feeling the professors relief and the termination of his anxiety; plus the moment too golden to let pass. Rarely did moments with an audience present themselves for a witty, and silencing taunt at her wife, and she was revelling.

Vastra tilted her head away, merely flexing her jaw, feigning indifference, and tutted at the snorts now emanating from her wife. <I will remember this. I always do, you know.>

The professor smirked in spite of himself, but diplomatically moved the day's proceedings along. "Alright, since we have the genetic and healthy go-aheads, how about we see to collecting that blood-sample Vastra? Jenny, when you're back to a steady-handed state, we can begin."

✹✹✹ 

 

"We can complete the whole fertilisation procedure in our labs, if you like, followed by the re-introduction of the fertilised egg into Jenny's womb. We can also inject the seminiferous sample here in the chair at our surgery, if you should wish. However, we find that most couples tend to enjoy the intimacy of their own bedrooms or private spaces for insemination, and for this we supply you with the appropriate equipment, er, for the job, so to speak."

A definitive nod was shared between the pair, and Jenny responded. "I think we'd like the home equipment option, thanks."

"Lovely! I shall arrange for a kit to be provided to you presently. But first - the goods!" He handed over what looked like a highly-polished, cylindrical, metallic cannister - similar in dimensions to a hot water thermos - containing the precious (and expensive) products. "As for your follow-up antenatal care, I will ask the team at reception to arrange with you your appointment times." 

Demurely, Vastra informed the professor. "Actually, we live very far away from here, and now that we've collected the samples we are returning home this afternoon. Sadly, we are not able to return so easily after today, but we do have access to our own high quality private antenatal care. This is where we must part ways, for the foreseeable future. Thank you kindly for all of your services. It means much to us both for your willingness and ready acceptance to take us on as your clients."

"Yes, you've been an absolute wonder, professor." Jenny concluded. "I'm so pleased that our friend The Doctor recommend us to your services. We can't speak highly enough of your professional care and personal touch. Truly, we thank you from the bottom of our 'earts."

"Well, I guess there's no stopping you, then. I usually wouldn't advice this, but considering your displayed capabilities and _proven_ history of well-placed assurances," he grinned sheepishly, thinking back to their telometrics, "I do trust in your competent and confident appraisal to source appropriate care throughout the pregnancy."

Jenny graciously curtsied the professor, Vastra bowed, and both thanked him dearly again.

After a respectful pause, he actually sighed wistfully.  "The truth be told, ladies, I would love to see you throughout the whole pregnancy, and your little girl when she is born. With parents like yourselves - a down-to-earth and instinctively nurturing human, and a protective and determinedly capable Silurian - I am certain she will be a voracious darling." He smiled warmly, and escorted the ladies cordially out of his office.

Utterly too stunned to produce any coherent words, Jenny and Vastra could only open and shut their mouths like a carp out of water. _He knew that [I/she] was Silurian?_

"My best regards, and please do not hesitate to contact me if something should not go as planned." Next he whispered conspiratorially, "And please tell my husband in reception, Steven, that he is to give you my _personal_ contact details. Farewell, Mrs and Mrs Flint!"

And with that he bowed his head, returned to his office and closed the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! And that the science was fairly plausible.. not possible, but also not impossible in the near future.


	3. A Grand Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a terrible incident involving their daughter at the market, Jenny, and later Vastra, seek retribution against the criminal.
> 
> Honestly, why would anyone ever tempt the wrath of a mother in protection of her child? Imagine then, the wrath of two protective, very physically competent and very peeved mothers... Bad guy, you deserve what's coming to you.
> 
> NOTE: *Heads up*  
> -This involves a kidnapping, and a (hopefully convincing) short panic attack. Please be aware if these are sensitive issues for you. x  
> -There is also unstated but implied graphic violence/horror. (I'm still figuring out tags etc.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually a fond fan of the French (oui oui!), so please don't read any discrimination or hate into my choice of villain for this plot. Considering England and France's volatile history, I figured it the most likely choice for the time ;)
> 
> Also, lemme know if the French accent wasn't quite understandable. I've tweaked some words to sound more Frenchish, but they should hopefully still be recognisable.

"Don't you dare put a finger near my daughter again!" Jenny hissed, heaving at the absurdly face-painted man. With her left hand she clutched Alira's small, shivering body closer to her own, and tightened her grip on the long dagger pointing at his throat.

"Ahh, so we 'ave stirred ze anger of ze muzzer bear for 'er cub, uh?" He laughed hoarsely, his French accent spewing forth. His breath reeked foully of stale tobacco smoke, repugnantly sweet alcohol, and the usual acrid putridity that festered in the mouths of common Victorians (evidently, public health policy had not yet acquainted itself with appropriate dental hygiene practises).

He gingerly rubbed his freshly bruised jowl and wrist, a gift from her, checked the bloody scratches on his arm and shoulder, a gift from Alira, and spat a large glob of frothy, grassy spittle and blood at his feet. He never broke his eyes from her gaze.

Pasting a fake and cruel smile on his features, he continued. "You know, we always haccept new talernt for a muzzer and 'er freak child. She would earn you a lotto money, the leetle lizard girl from Ancient Egypt, uh? As for a pretty one like yourseulf," he leered at her, "I should think we'd 'ave a very good audience for your.. _patronage_." He sleazily trawled his eyes down to her covered breasts and back up to her face, daring her to take his bait.

The man's grotesque advance disgusted Jenny profoundly, and she stifled the skin crawling convulsion his lewd glance had triggered. 

✹✹✹

Earlier that morning in the crowded market place, during one split second of distraction as Jenny turned to pay the marketer for her purchase, this ape had snatched her little daughter Alira, only 3 years old, away from her.

The consequent gut-dropping terror at seeing her daughter be carried away, watching her little eyes widen in surprise then fear as her grasping Mama was pushed further and further behind the swarming masses - it froze Jenny glacially solid.

For what seemed like minutes, all of the sounds from the market and swathes of people were dulled into a high-pitched buzzing; the faces flashing past her blurred into one conglomerate spray of pastel colour; the angry and impatient knocks from passing pedestrians, interrupted by her sudden halt, all faded into numbness; tighter and tighter her throat and chest squeezed in on her, pressing down on her, paralysing.. until all she could sense was her rushing heartbeat. Panic.

 _Alira_. 

Mentally latching on to her daughter's name, a hidden switch flicked on within her, and suddenly Jenny found herself desperately gasping for breath; the world rapidly rushing back to her in sharp, crystalline focus. She slowed her breathing into a long and steady rhythm - her daily, gruelling training with Vastra kicking in - and she awoke to herself fully in huntress mode. She knew her prey.

Purchases and payment long since forgotten, and cursing the bulky impracticality of her dress, she hitched up her skirts and vaulted herself upon the market bench, amidst the gasps and outcry of milling gawkers.

The balding shop owner set eyes upon her shockingly exposed calf, now strangely appearing at his eye-level, and blushed the richest hue of magenta. Given the poor woman had just had her child snatched away, he could forgive her hysterical impropriety, but it would take time to recover from the effects of this heathen obscenity!

Against the sudden uproar against her physical outburst, Jenny calculated the gap between herself and the adjacent building, and launched herself agilely towards a nearby drainpipe, to pull herself to a higher level, above the heaving masses. 

From her new vantage point, she frantically surveyed the crowd and surrounding pockets of market space. _There!_ , at the north western corner of the square, she spotted a man with a small child, her child, slung over his shoulder as he jogged his way hastily toward a cab. With grim satisfaction and pride, she could make out her little Alira's flailing arms, scratching her claws up his back and tearing at his jacket. Her fierce little child would not make it easy for the man, at least, but after an anxious mental stab she prayed it also wouldn't rile him up into violent brutality against her.

 Clambering the distance up to the roof ( _people really need to create more functional attire for women!_ ), Jenny made her way mostly along domestic rooftops, tracking the cab's movement and direction.

In retrospect, it was in incredible feat considering the busy hubbub of the late morning - but desperation had beat her unrelentingly on.

 

Eventually the cab led her towards what she deduced to be the visiting circus, and a suffocating veil of dread and fear fell upon her. _He's stealing her to join the circus_. Cold realisation flooded her veins like acid, and spurred her on with a fresh wave of fettered urgency. She swore death and eternal torment on that monster.

As she rushed into the outer boundary of the circus grounds, scanning the new crowd of colourfully but oddly dressed people, Jenny sighted the man again, dragging a surprisingly strong and stubborn-footed Alira behind him towards the back of a tent.

Finally her target in sight, Jenny sped towards the two, pumping muscles furiously. Three metres away just as Alira twisted back to see who was racing towards them, Jenny leapt into the air and kicked down out at the captor's wrist, freeing Alira from his grip, then twisted her body back to slam her incredibly solid fist into his jaw, sending him straight into the ground.

Rolling deftly as she slapped and reached the ground, Jenny spun swiftly to run and sweep her daughter into her arms, who was loudly croaking in relief now, and squeezed her tightly against herself, cradling her head in hand. "You're all safe, Alira. I'm here, now. You're back with Mama." She sighed, panting, but controlled. She still needed to deal with the invader; he needed to pay.

✹✹✹

One flick of her wrist, the slightest push and this man would have fallen at her feet, gasping for his last breath as his blood spilled onto the grass beneath him. _I pity the poor creatures that would drown in his vile waste_ , she regretted. However, after a moment's hesitation, she stayed her hand.

No, Alira had been dragged through enough already today. Jenny didn't wish for her to be further exposed to such hateful violence, not just yet, so early in her lifetime. Hers was still an innocent mind, virtually untouched by the cruelty and harshness of the world. 

Oh, she had no misconceptions about her daughter's eventual involvement in various bloody pursuits - pursuits she was already beginning to take an interest in - she was her Silurian Mum's daughter, after all. But something deep within Jenny stirred, and demanded she protect her daughter's innocence, if only for a day longer. 

Murder was in her eyes, the ring leader recognised it, but she was powerless to manifest it - probably due to a pitiful instinct to protect the young child clinging to her breast, he figured. It was the same lethal rage the lions displayed to him when he dangled their evening carcass (rats, cats, dogs - or sheep if the crew had dined particularly well that night) tantalisingly, tauntingly just outside of the lions' reach. He grinned sadistically as the familiar emotions flooded his body: power of manipulating the helpless, lust of goading the captive powerful. He revelled in his sadistic elation, but remained cautious - she still held a knife to his throat after all. And he knew women were beasts, too.

Jenny curled her lip in contempt, her eyes blazing in fury as she held the blade tighter to this repulsive human's neck. Frantically, she racked her brain for all the relatively violence-free options of escape from this detestable excuse of a male. Slightly inhibited as she was with her dear cargo held to her chest, she would not turn her back on this ape until he was far, far away.

As the woman shifted in hesitation, the degenerate man recognised in her seething eyes a certain familiarity. Searching his memory, _yes!_ He was sure he had seen these eyes, angry and full of hatred, before. His own widened as realisation struck him. "Grosse chatte en feu ! Mon Dieu !" he cursed. Then they narrowed cunningly as he glanced slyly between the mother and daughter figure in front of him.

"Foergive me my lack of étiquette, as you might say, but I believe I 'ave had the pleaseure of your acquaintance befeure." He giggled, as realisation sunk in. "Alors, but zis eez wondeurful !" He grinned, displaying his yellowed, partially rotten teeth. "Oh, yes, yes, it can be. Oh, I recall now.."

Jenny tutted in exasperation at his inevitable monologue, still awaiting her opening to strike, but somewhere in her mind his words registered and a hazy face was called up from the depths of her mind.

It was from a memory earlier in her life, one that she remembered very well, but hadn't matched with the shadowy wreck in front of her; ageing had bestowed no kindnesses on the man. Still, it was him.

 

" _Il y a longtemps_ , pardon me, a long time ago... a green lizard woman is caged, locked and 'eld for exhibition in a circus" he began, "and is vizzited by a beautiful young admirer, day after day. Zis matchmaid admirer dreams and 'opes, oh 'ow she 'opes, of seeing zis creature free and running _wild_. 'Er 'eart breaks as she sees ze demeaning things this beautiful creature must do.

"Then, one day, zis beautiful girl 'as her oppoeurtinity, and she pounces. It iz night and ze cage master is drunk, stumbling 'ome from a night wiz many reputable and fine ladies - but 'e must say 'is usual goodnight to 'is amazing lizard woman before retiring to bed. 'E notices a pretty young girl waiting outside the lizard's cage and she approaches 'im.

"She tells 'im, there iz something she wants that only 'e 'as.." Here, he guffaws provocatively, "..and grabs 'is cock for a pull. 'E settles down, pleased to oblige zis beautiful woman… and zen, well, 'e wakes up in ze morning, 'is keys are missing, ze cage opened and 'is amazing lizard lady disappeared. What 'e finds in 'er place is a very large lump on 'is 'ead, and a new job as ze elephant _trappeur de merde_ …"

 

Pouting wistfully at an unpleasant memory, he gradually grins back at Jenny to explain,

"Ah, but don't worry. Zis story 'as a happy ending, let me tell you. After much, er, 'ard work, I eventually become ze ringmaster of ze circus. And you.." 

He snickered. "I 'ave absolutely no idea 'ow - and believe me when I say you I know ze ways of animals, very intimately- I can see that at last your lizard lady 'as finally run wild… wiz _you_!"

His eyes glittered with amusement and malice, as he eyed the little girl in her arm. Alira growled and snapped her maw at him. 

Jenny retracted her hand back from his neck, livid. It was time to go, or her rapidly waning resolve would snap. "Get away from 'ere. Now." She spat, icily.

"Ah, but zis is my 'ome, now. I cannot just leave because you ask zis to me." Free from the blade, he took a step forward and reached his arms languidly above his head, feigning a stretch, staring down at her menacingly. It was physical intimidation, of course, as ancient as early primate warfare, and they both knew it.

Finally, she herself resorted to a timeless, if banal, bloodless strategy to escape. Fluidly, and dangerously fast, she shifted her and Alira's weight onto her left leg, and kicked out powerfully with her right to catch him brutally hard in his crotch, the flat topside of her foot finding - or rather, flattening - its mark very convincingly.

Before he could even clutch his groin and hit the ground, she thrust the heel of her palm into the side of his nose - feeling and hearing the splintering crunch as his nasal cartilage and bone shattered. A spurt of blood erupted before he crumpled to the ground, curled up, and cursed pitifully in pain.

 _Damn, it wasn’t completely bloodless. But at least it wasn't a stab wound_ , she conceded.

Hitching Alira higher onto her hip, Jenny placed her right arm around her daughter's head protectively, holding her against her neck, and marched hastily away from the pathetically whimpering man, tent, and circus grounds - towards home. 

✹✹✹

Relief, closely shadowed by shock and guilt, poured into Jenny's system only once she'd returned to 13 Paternoster Row. A policeman who had been following up complaints of an hysterical woman jumping across roofs, had intercepted Jenny, and upon hearing her circumstances graciously offered her and her daughter an expedient cab ride home.

Strax and the coach had been sent out to fetch Vastra from the Yard, Alira drawn a bath to expunge the stench of the ringleader from her body (stashing the clothing in the laundry for Vastra to deal with later), then tenderly laid into her cot to sleep off the day's exhaustion.

Jenny had been strong and fairly well contained all throughout this terrible episode, its urgency necessitating her virtually clinical composure. But now her mind asserted its demands to pause, process, and experience fully all of her emotions. Only then did her true reactions of the day pour themselves back out again: hot, heavy rolling tears.

 

As Jenny heard Vastra enter the front door, she remorsefully approached the entrance hall. As soon as Vastra stopped and noticed her, Jenny burst into a fresh wave of weeping, alarming Vastra so much that she abruptly drew Jenny fiercely into her arms.

A brief psychic glimpse into her wife's mind enlightened her to the day's events and the emotional upheaval rent by this familiar lecher. Understanding and compassion broke over her and she held Jenny in a tighter, sheltering embrace. 

"I'm so sorry, Vastra. I looked away from 'er on'y a second. I'm so sorry, so sorry.." Jenny wept shudderingly into Vastra's shoulder, hiding her face, guilt racking her frame.

"Shh, sh sh shhh. It's ok now, you are not the one to blame, she's back now, she's safe," Vastra crooned, rocking gently side to side, stroking Jenny's hair, comforting her distraught human, her partner. Dark and seething anger reared up its head within her - not against her hurting wife, no - but against that (here she used an especially colourful Silurian term), that cruel cage master turned ringleader.

 

Gently extricating herself, only once Jenny had sobbed her body into an exhausted and becalmed state, Vastra slunk quietly into the spare bedroom, recently become nursery.

She leant down to survey her little hatchling anxiously, gently resting her hand on her forehead. She flicked her tongue to taste the air around the sleeping child, checking for signs of injury or mistreatment; she was pleased to find virtually no trace of that ape left. The useful scent would remain on the little girl's clothing, stowed in the laundry in wait (she praised Jenny for her organisation), but damned would Vastra be if any filth were to linger on her treasured one's scales.

She kissed her slumbering daughter's forehead, eliciting the faintest grunt of content, and left the room silently, the handle barely clicking in the latch.

A shallow sniff of the clothes in the laundry was enough to revive the memory of her previous keeper's scent. After a quick change into more practical clothing in the basement training room, and a final regretful glance at her swords ( _I won't be needing you this time my friends, I'm afraid),_ she bared her teeth, and returned to the hallway.

She was ready.

"Strax! I await the coach."

The spudlian giant looked at his arch-mistress (the Jenny-boy, being the softer and hence weaker of the two, was unworthy of the title). His unfading soldier instincts saw the lust for impending destruction aglow in her eyes, and he grinned. _Oohh, tonight is going to be glorious!_ He shuffled out to ready the horses.

With a final, steady affirmative nod from Jenny, Vastra disappeared into the carriage, and drove out into the streets, towards the circus grounds. 

✹✹✹

A few months later, as anxieties from that terrifying event had begun to ebb and settle, Vastra sat at the dining room table, reclining on her ebony dining chair. Finished her breakfast of black pudding, she rifled through the week's edition of _The Lamp Post: An Illuminating Guide for What You Should Do When Visiting and Living in London_. She turned a page, snorted in derision as she skimmed her eyes over an article, and returned the newspaper to the table top, opened to the page. 

Jenny glanced over at her wife from the opposite side of the table. She held her arms around a seated, intensely focused and heavily concentrating Alira, who was kept busily occupied practising how to hold her knife and fork properly. In a bluster of frustration the girl smashed her fork into the blooded sausage on her own plate, missing and sending it flying across the table onto Vastra's plate.

"Oi, you!" Jenny laughed as the sausage plopped and rolled about the dish. "Food is meant to stay to stay on your _own_ plate, missy. Haw, you're doing really well though, love" she encouraged with a kiss to her girl's cheek and an affectionate shoulder rub.

She stood to face Vastra, unceasingly amused by her wife's contemptuous smirks; she was curious as to what Vastra may have discovered.

"It appears Europe's Amazing Travelling Circus has two new additions to their troop. Take a look." She gestured as she retrieved the recently launched and bloody missile.

As Vastra crossed paths with her wife, allowing Jenny to access the paper, she stole a cheeky squeeze of Jenny's muscular rump, even more gloriously full after giving birth to their daughter. Earning a smart swat to the shoulder and a falsely indignant "Oi, you _too_!", she returned the breakfast projectile to Alira's plate.

Alira's decidedly grumpy countenance instantly brightened with amazement as her blood sausage re-materialised onto the plate before her eyes. "Ooooh, thank you, mummyyyy!" She shined an enormous toothy grin at her.

"You are welcome, my sweet. Although, try not to lose it next time." She smiled playfully back. "See, I hold the cutlery as if I am pointing to my food. First, point with your left finger to hold it in place, like this. Second, point with your right to chop off its head. Third, point your left to your mouth, open wide and.. _Gulp_!" 

"Don't forget to chew first, tha's important." Jenny chimed in absent-mindedly from behind the newspaper she had buried her face in.

Alira industriously followed the new system her Mum taught her. Success was sweet, and tasty - her eyes gleaming in triumph as she chewed and bounced exuberantly in her chair. 

Jenny replaced the paper on the table top, and grimly tightened her mouth. She was not a vicious person in nature, not by any means. Albeit, when necessary she had permanently dispatched both men and women, even aliens - but she took no pleasure in the act. And yet, the _Lamp Post_ 's advertisement had given her a strange satisfaction.

"So, there's a new ringleader at the circus. A Indian man, that'll be a nice change." 

"Yes, better than the last Frenchman they had." Vastra agreed, gazing fixedly at her daughter.

"Although, I am intrigued by the new exhibit they're promotin'."

"Yes." Came the quiet response.

" "The Hideous Stump Man: a freakish creature raised out o' the darkness o' Damnation itself. Born only with stumps, it possesses neither arms nor legs, no tongue, and empty flesh-concealed eye sockets. Come one, come all, an' dare yourself to glimpse at this beast of disdain." " Jenny recited flatly. "Hmm, how interestin'.."

Resounding silence.

"Why's he have no legsies or armses, Mummy?" Alira piped up, puzzled by the limbless description.

"Well, I honestly don't know, pet." Answered Vastra enigmatically. "Perhaps he had them… all gobbled up!"

And with that Vastra pounced theatrically toward her daughter and noisily kissed her way up Alira's arm, eliciting writhing squirms and shrill squeals of laughter.

Vastra broke the playing to stare into Jenny's eyes. A knowing look passed between them, and they exchanged a subtle nod of confirmation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, what did you expect to happen, Mr Ringleader? tsk tsk.
> 
> You shouldn't be snatching children, exploiting the unconsenting "abnormal" for financial gain, terrorising the powerless for personal entertainment, or making unwelcome and lewd remarks to women, anyway... but you sure picked the wrong child and parents to tangle with!
> 
> Oh, how your tables have turned :|


	4. Mouse Hunt - pt.1

Settling her feet against the flagstones of the kitchen floor, its coolness both calming and sharpening her mind, Alira crouched low to the ground, hands spread wide either side of her body for balance, and waited. She closed her eyes to heighten the focus of her hearing, holding herself still, barely breathing, as she listened for the tell tale signs of her quarry. It was thanks to her acute sense of hearing, a gift of her reptilian heritage, that she could listen through the fumblings and creakings of busy, heavy feet about the house - mixed in with the occasional Sontoran curse - and isolate noises only originating from within the kitchen, larder and servants' quarters.

As her toes began to tingle from the restricted blood flow, vessels compressed by her extended crouch, Alira's attention almost wavered towards giving up, when at last a familiar rustle broke through the fluid silence. Her senses bound tight on tenterhooks, she strained for the second sound that would alert her of the exact whereabouts of her prey.

Seemingly grown bold at having roused no dangerous predator, the rustling began anew. It seemed to come from just behind the doorway, on the second shelf from the bottom of the larder, where the paper-wrapped cheeses were kept. Poised for attack at having pinned the source's location, Alira could now discern miniscule tearing noises; and beneath that layer of sound, the faintest whirring of a mouse's tiny, rapid heartbeat. As if to confirm the mouse's presence, Alira's nostrils stirred as a draft carried a trace of its scent towards her; a sweet, musky, and pungent odour. 

She marked her pathway of attack, involving a rebound off the opened larder door. There, she would kick out her feet and propel herself backwards, manoeuvring into the corner where the shelves and her prey lay unawares of its inevitable destruction. Or so Strax would have said.

Relaxing her muscles and screwing up all of her concentration, Alira waggled her hips, loosening her joints as she braced herself to pounce. She slammed all of the strength in her small but startlingly strong thighs and quadriceps into her feet, arms reaching forward claws extended, mouth opened in a fierce snarl, and launched her body lithely into the air.

For a whole second she was completely suspended in the air, free, almost like she was soaring, when suddenly a dead weight slammed into her chest, pushing her shoulders and stomach backwards and up, as her limbs continued their forward projection. They too, eventually found the end of their bungee, and were snapped back to accompany the rest of her subdued body, dangling in mid-air.

"Alright, kitten prowler, not in 'ere." Remanded Jenny, as she held out her squirming four-and-a-half year old, clutched by the back straps of her red poplin dungaree. The rustling noise in the larder halted and was quickly replaced by the scrabbling of tiny paws, clawing for purchase on the wooden shelves for an expedient escape towards the back of the larder. 

"Mama!" The little girl howled and grumped, throwing her fists and feet uselessly at thin air, hissing at her fleeing prey. She was utterly unimpressed with her mother's untimely intervention. So absorbed had she been with preparing to pounce towards the intrusive mouse, that she had forgotten to listen for her Mama's approaching footsteps. 

If the situation didn't require Jenny to be stern with her daughter, as required by a breach of the mutually agreed to household rules - essential for peacekeeping - she would have laughed at her adorably raging daughter; Alira's resemblance to her full-blooded Silurian mother, in that seething moment, was uncanny.

 "You know perfectly well that we told you there's to be no huntin' inside o' the house, Alira!" She chided the girl, suppressing the smirk battling for its release. Jenny gently placed her youngling's feet back onto the floor, but did not release her grip until she was sure she would not try to strike out in a final desperate attempt.

Alira's shoulders slumped in defeat. A few days after her first contact with the mouse, she'd unintentionally caught a glimpse of the wee beastie scurrying about in the kitchen and had several near-catch encounters with it since; although she was careful to avoid the larder and make sure no one was around to see her. Alas, she had been thwarted again by what had become her "rodential" nemesis, but she vowed it would not happen another time. "Mama, it was about to get our cheeses!" She pleaded, with what remained of her diminished vehemence.

"Well, what a fortunate Mr. Mouse! But you an' I both know what would've happened if you'd got in there with him like the last time. An' that, young lady, ain't gonna 'appen!"

✹✹✹

 Alira's previous and first surprise encounter with the nefarious mouse, had occurred a couple of weeks previously, a Tuesday, during the mid-afternoon. Strax was tramping noisily about in his bedroom above the entrance hall, and Jenny was occupied with a cleaning task in the basement.

After hearing a faint scratching sound coming from inside the larder, a strange and unfamiliar impulse had overtaken her young body; a sense of power flooded her frame, setting her mind on discovering and capturing the unknown and surreptitious origin of noise. A secondary sound, what could be described as a squeak, escaped and without a moment's thought, Alira pounced into the larder. Her flight path was neither smooth nor well-contained, and she crashed every clay, porcelain and metal pot, plate and dish in her way onto the unforgiving flagstones; smashing all things breakable into myriad shards, and launching numerous palatable projectiles. Suffice it to say, the mouse received adequate warning of Alira's approach and retreated to safety without her even catching sight of it.

 The explosive noise had brought Jenny running up the basement stairs, into the kitchen and around to the right and the scene of the crime. A small, light-green scaled and crested head peeped out sheepishly from behind the doorway, tear stains already tracking through the shroud of white flour, cracked eggs, and other unnameable dried herbs and exotic spices.

Jenny gaped, taking in the scene before her. After a pause of stunned silence, she conceded an exasperated shrug of her shoulders, and set to work extricating her shocked and teary daughter from the wreckage. The room's clean up could wait until later.

Instead, the rest of the afternoon was spent cleaning up Alira: a bath of vigourous scrubbing ensued; a thorough lookover to remove any lodged debris; and multiple bursts of apologetic tears wiped and cuddled away. She was sent to her room for a nap and to allow herself to calm down. Jenny could see that Alira was suffering from her own fright at the crash, and wouldn't respond to any immediate dispensing of discipline - freeing up Jenny to set about clearing up the damage and spillage.

Vastra arrived home early in the evening, to which Alira emerged from her bedroom to contritely apologise for the mess she had made. She was very sorry, and upset that she couldn't explain why she had done it. Vastra and Jenny readily forgave her. Vastra had recognised the impulse as a Silurian hunting instinct that Alira's blended-species' body was beginning to manifest - and both assured her that they believed it was an honest accident. However, it was decided that a new house rule needed to be added to "the list", to prevent an accident like that from happening again.

Vastra was certain that if Alira's neural development was similar to that of full-blooded Silurian children, then it would take a few months yet for her to master the necessary hunting skills of risk assessment, attack planning, and sophisticated gross and fine motor-skill coordination. In other words, she would continue to make a lot of damage until she became the poised and deft huntress she inevitably would be one day.

Any kind of future hunting was forbidden inside of the house, and Alira was to count to five and let Jenny or Vastra know whenever she felt the urge to pounce on something. The theory being either of them would help her to take control of her impulses and channel her energy elsewhere, until she could learn to control herself by herself. 

Vastra knew she would very soon need to take active charge of Alira's hunting practise, especially considering the instinct clearly originated from her bloodline, she drolly noted. She was actually looking forward to when her hatchling would draw her first blood - not human, of course - but culturally significant for Silurians, nonetheless. On the other side of the cross-species' fence, Jenny resigned herself to the imminent fact that her daughter would soon learn what it meant to take blood and life from another living creature, an early symbol of innocence lost. Yet, Jenny vowed that she would ensure Alira learned to respect life all the more. 

✹✹✹

Later that night, after Alira's first hunting encounter with the mouse, when all the household had retired or been put to bed, Vastra and Jenny lay together undressed, snuggling and reflecting on the day. The two had shared a hearty, private giggle.

"Hones'ly, if I weren't so shocked at the mess she'd made, I'd've laughed me head off me shoulders for lookin' at 'er." Jenny recounted the sight that had met her, muffling stifled laughter into Vastra's shoulder. "I just stared at her with my mouth 'angin' open. I think that's probably what scared her so much, poor thing; not knowin' how I was going to react and expectin' the worst."

Vastra had to smile affectionately at the image Jenny had psychically shared with her. That such devastation could be caused by such a small hatchling was commendable, albeit under different circumstances.

"Well, at least her hunting instincts are definitely beginning to develop." Vastra mused, slinging an arm around and behind Jenny's shoulders. "However, I had thought the ambushes would begin sooner. Most Silurian children usually start play-hunting between the ages of three and four." 

Here, Vastra shot her eyes surreptitiously at her wife. "I suppose that's just another inferior, but inevitable, quirk of having _ape_ blood in her system." She slyly finished, relishing the anticipation of the inevitable bite back from her wife.

"Oi! You mean rather a quirk of having _snake_ blood in her system! My daughter ain't no simple ape." She retorted wryly, intentionally using a double-negative. She playfully shoved Vastra across the bed into the unoccupied and frigid edge of the sheet.

"I beg your pardon!" A startled Vastra guffawed, wriggling her body promptly back into the zone of her wife's body heat, rolling over to face Jenny. "And my daughter has not an ounce of snake blood in her, I'll have you know! She's a Silurian. A proper lizard. Hmph!" She scoffed theatrically, flicking her tongue in disdain at the abhorrent inference of reptilian impurity in her lineage. 

Sobering a little, Jenny addressed Vastra. "Seriously, we do need to organise some kind of arrangement to manage and develop her hunting instincts. I know it's only natural for her at this age, but I've finally had all the walls, floors and furniture resurfaced. I don't think the house or I could survive another clawin' or crawlin' campaign." 

Vastra chuckled, and gently placed a kiss on Jenny's nose. "I agree, dear. If I didn't need to convene with the inspectors at the Yard so frequently during the day, I would take her out myself to the woods and teach her to hunt the voles and mice there, instead." She reasoned, a little wistfully.

"I know you would, love." Jenny assured her, bestowing a gentle kiss in return on Vastra's nose and forehead. "Perhaps when there's a quiet patch at work you c'n step back an' let the boys take on some of the larger caseloads for you. That way you could take 'er out. But then… I wonder if she's also getting a bit restless, because she doesn't have any other kids her age to play with. Maybe she's gettin' a bit lonely."

"Goddess forgive me," Vastra groaned, "I thought so too. But what children do you know of that would play nicely with a human-Silurian hybrid? The minute her perception filter bonnet goes on, she instantly tears it off. Plus, filters don't really work on children of any species, if they're young enough. Usually because they haven't learnt to ignore what's right in front of them, yet. Regardless of whether we maintain her physical identity a secret or not, she's bound to be associated as a relative of mine, and I have made far too many enemies of hard criminals to rest dispassionately with that knowledge. What if another instance like the circus happens and we can't be there to protect her?"

"Mm. Children can be cruel…" Jenny drifted into a vague and unhappy memory of her childhood, a teasing she'd received from the other kids in her neighbourhood for one of her many "abnormal" habits, interposed bizarrely with the cruel and mocking face of the circus ring leader. Horrified at the resurgence of his unwelcome face - the man who had almost successfully abducted their daughter - Jenny reminded herself resolutely of his unwelcome fate, snapping herself back into the present. "Yes, children and adults alike can be cruel. Life in general, really. But we can't keep her away from society forever, or she'll never learn how to be or be around a human; never mind becoming a strong and compassionate one."

"Yes.. Yes, you are right." Vastra pondered to herself. "She will need to protect herself alone, one day. Although, we do know she isn't entirely defenceless - she left significant damage to that creature when he tried to carry her away, and that was when she was only three. We have given her an excellent foundational education already, but as for socialisation with other children her age, I believe a nursery school or a similar establishment would be our most appropriate option. I'll have to ask about that as well at the Yard office; I'll find out where the fathers send their children.."

Both women had separated themselves to lie back and stare at the awning of their four poster bed, pondering their independent thoughts and potential solutions. 

Jenny let out a tired breath. "Well, we aren't goin' to solve it all by ourselves right here tonight. I can, in the meantime, make an effort to take 'er out to the park nearby, on the strict condition she keep her bonnet on, and let her play about or hunt insects there. She might even meet some friendly children while she's about. Lord forbid she be left out the back yard alone, or in Strax's care, to climb over the fence an' 'op away."

Vastra yawned widely. "My dear, once again you prove yourself to be indisputably correct. I submit my humble will… to your overpowering.. and intellectual.. prowess..." She managed to drabble out, as she nuzzled into Jenny's neck, settling into a soporific calm. 

Jenny grinned sleepily at her drowsing wife, and surrendered herself to the enveloping arms of sleep.

✹✹✹ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oy vey! The honeymoon enthusiasm of writing has somewhat faded. I also became a little distracted within the storyline and needed to refocus myself a bit, and so the writing (already) hasn't come as easily/quickly as it first did. I have a number of draft chapters yet unpublished in my initial flourish of productivity.
> 
> Nevertheless! Here's another chapter, split into parts, and I hope it sits well with the fleshed out feel of the characters thus far. Lemme know if there something that, to you, doesn't quite ring true, and I'll see what I can do ;)


	5. Mouse Hunt - pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As her hunting instincts begin to develop and grow, Alira continues her game of Silurian and mouse, in the house, but doesn't really realise what catching her opponent means or what might come after..

✹✹✹

 _Mr Mouse would not escape today, oh no._ Alira had been very careful this time, and waited for her Mama to leave the house, while her Silurian Mum was at work, and Strax was occupied in his room. She would not be thwarted again in this game of mouse hunt.

Once again, she was crouched in wait, but this time flat on her stomach, perched against the skirting, just inside the kitchen doorway leading in from the dining room. When her quarry arrived, she would be ready to kick off the skirting and project herself across the kitchen floor, towards the piece of stolen cheese that she had strategically laid ahead of her, across the room, tucked into the gap between floor and the shallow cupboard overhang.

Within minutes, a barely audible padding of miniscule feet could be heard on the flagstones of the larder, along with the tell tale whirring of a heartbeat, approaching the kitchen. The slightest inhale and widening of her nostrils revealed his familiar scent.

At the bottom corner of the larder door, diagonally opposite to Alira, a tiny whiskered nose twitched out to sniff the air of the kitchen. Catching the scent of the cheese, so readily available and begging to be eaten, the rest of the nose's face, ears and head appeared, closely followed by forepaws, body, hind legs, and tail. In speedy bursts of advance, the tiny grey mouse jetted itself across the opposite skirting, under the shallow cover of the overhanging cupboards, towards its prized cheese.

Upon reaching the curd-filled delight and a confirmatory sniff of its authenticity, the mouse took the first of its nibbles to taste the salty and flavourful treat.

Without a breath, Alira steeled her mind and instantaneously launched herself off the skirting toward the masticating mouse. So forceful was her propulsion she shot over the floor in less than a second; her out flung right arm reached for the mouse and, without a moment for it to react, she had closed her hand around its small, warm body.

"Ah hah! I caught you, at last, Mr Mousey. I win!!" She jumped up onto her feet, giddily dancing around victoriously in her celebration. A momentary flood of power and strength surged through her body and, without thinking, she instinctively clenched her fists tightly to crush her captive, punching them victoriously into the air above her.

After her initial bout of enthusiasm, she stopped to consider her long-time rival and offer him conciliation - it was good manners, her mothers always told her. She lifted the mouse by it's tail, to stare face to face with her defeated opponent. It's little body hung limp and still, swaying like a pendulum.

"Mr Mouse, you don't have to be sad because you lost. We can play again." She jiggled the mouse's slackened body. Looking closely at the mouse's face, Alira noticed that blood had dribbled out of it's mouth, nose and eyes. As if he were weeping tears of blood.

"Mr Mouse. Mr Mouse! Why are you crying? Please don't be sad, I'm sorry. Look, we can play the game again." She settled the mouse onto the floor, and waited for it to run away. It remained perfectly motionless.

Alira nudged it, encouragingly, scooting it along the floor. It slid a metre then came to a convincing halt. "Get up, Mr Mouse. Why don't you want to play?"

Worry was starting to rise in her young mind. The mouse should be moving now, running away like he always did. But he just lay there, inanimate. Alira could no longer hear the whirring of his tiny heart. She reached down to place her fingers delicately on his body; it felt a lot cooler to her touch than it did when she had first grasped him. She gave his side a gentle prod, but her finger was met with resistance; he wasn't soft or squidgy as he had been.

She didn't have the vocabulary to describe what she was thinking or feeling at this moment, but she sensed something was wrong. Very wrong. All she had known until this point, was that she had wanted to capture the mouse; like it was a game, albeit an important one. She had never wondered or considered what would happen when she did. In her innocence, she had just believed that the game would continue, like it always had.

"Mr Mouse, you have to move! Mr Mouse-" A heavy tramping came down the stairway from the other end of the house. Alira called out. "Strax! Strax, come here!"

"What is it, girl?" He asked gruffly as he reluctantly shuffled towards the kitchen.

"Strax. I caught Mr Mouse, but he isn't moving. I think he's hurt. Make him move again, Strax. Make him move." Alira pleased with the wide-angled Sontoran.

Strax stared from the little lizard girl sitting in front of him to the small, dead mouse by her lap. A strange sense of hesitancy bade him pause before speaking. This must be the girl's first kill - he hadn't heard of any yet - and for Sontoran soldiers it was a significant moment in the span of their short lifetimes.

"You have pulverised its life force and destroyed your first enemy. There is nothing I can do to bring it back alive. It is dead."

Puzzled by this strange word, Alira replied. "But I want him to play with me again. I want him to run again. Please Strax, use your clicky box. Wake him up!"

Strax opened his mouth, about to say something further, when again that bizarre sensation pulled him back from speaking. Something almost akin to pity crossed his mind, and he remembered this was a conversation that the girl's progenitors would likely want to have. He had been warned severely that anything unusual that happened with the girl he was to report and allow them to handle the rest. Unless she was in danger of harm or in a fight, then he was permitted to use his grenades and rescue her, but he was to leave any explanations to them. Killing was not considered unusual for Strax, but as it must be the child's first, it was best for his own sake if he did not interfere. He must wait to report it.

"Er, I believe this is a situation that I must defer to your progenitors." He explained, not unkindly, but not kindly, either. "I have not been authorised to explain any matter that relates to the glories of warfare and killing, and so we cannot share any more words about the dead vermin. Er, but I have never mentioned the word dead.." Strax began to look for an escape route, for a hasty retreat. "I will inform your progenitor once he has returned." Giving up for lost his initial desire to steal into the larder for his mistress' sherbet fancies, for surely their spawn would betray him, he decided to withdraw back into his private dwellings.

Alira self-consciously picked up the mouse to conceal it in her hands, staring dumbfounded at Strax as he walked away, afraid of what would happen if her mothers' found out what had happened.

Fear and panic began to well up inside her. Her heart beat faster and faster, a lump in her throat tightened, constricting her breathing. Hot heavy tears began to spill down her cheeks. Now she was the one unable to move, paralysed with fear, and guilt, and a twisting unknown - something else she'd never felt before. She clutched anxiously at the mouse in her hands, the mouse that was - what did Strax say? - dead.

_I've done something very bad. Mama and Mummy won't be happy. I was just playing a game and now I've made the mouse dead. Mummies said I shouldn't hunt in the house. But I hunted in the house when they were gone. I shouldn't have done that. And now Mr Mouse is dead. That must be wrong. I must be wrong... I am bad._

Her tummy clenched as a new sensation flooded her body. Cold, acid shame penetrated every corner of her outline. It was like she was colouring in one of her pictures, except that she was the picture. The blue pencil scraped at her tummy; the orange pencil pressed on her throat; both scratching from side to side, heavy indents trailing in their wake.

_I played with Mr Mouse. Now he's dead. I am bad._

Terror overwhelmed her senses and Alira broke down into wailing sobs and mournful keens, holding the dead mouse into her chest. She was afraid, sorry, and alone.

✹✹✹

Jenny swung open the front gate, and headed around to the side of the house for the servants' entrance. There really was no need for her to use the back entrance way, allocated for lower-class visitors and household staff. When she had first moved in, half the street had accused the "widow" who lived there of allowing gross liberties with her parlourmaid, tutting at the maid's impertinence and exploitative freedoms - freedoms that were more than just using the front door for her passage. Other maids from the neighbouring properties resented Jenny for her apparent special treatment - it just wasn't right for a maid to see herself as equal to her mistress. The final straw which had invited the absolute contempt of all for the elderly woman had come when the servant girl had appeared in the family way, swollen belly proudly on display, and still she was allowed to keep her employ.

The outrage of it! A scornful nearby resident, Ms. Beeton, had exclaimed in their local community paper. Yet, throughout the grumblings about the scandalous impropriety, Jenny never failed to warmly smile and greet every neighbour on her errands. Her graceful cheeriness, and the occasional outing with her undeniably beautiful child on hip, had gradually chipped away at their dutiful wall of belligerence. In time the ferocity of their complaints abated, even softened and, in their own aloof way, had almost come to pardon her of her "crimes". Some secretly admitted to liking her for it. Some of the lonelier residents even made special effort just to come out and greet the small girl when she joined her Ma on an excursion, and to receive the kind graces this endearing maid readily bestowed.

Nonetheless, every now and then Jenny felt like using the servant's entrance, if only for a change in her daily routine. As she passed the side of the house, parallel with the front sitting room, dining room, and kitchen, her maternal protective instincts signalled alert as she heard what was a mixture of high pitched keening and crying. She immediately picked up her pace around the corner towards the back door, entered, and upon sighting her little one slumped on the floor of the leftward kitchen side, rushed over to kneel alongside and cradle her daughter's sobbing body.

"Alira, sweetheart, what's wrong?" She crooned, anxiously checking over her face and body for any sign of injury. Alira's hands were clutched around something that she wouldn't release. "Strax! Where the bleed--- Strax, where are you, you giant spud?" She yelled angrily to the rest of the house.

An upstairs door handle hesitantly creaked open, reticent footsteps approached the top of the staircase and a voice called down to respond. "I found the youngling earlier with a dead vermin lying in front of her."

"Strax, come down here now, you great coward!" She demanded.

Alira let out a fresh wail of panic. Her Mama was about to find out that she was bad! Unable to escape from her mother's surrounding embrace, she buried her head and hands into Jenny's lap.

"Sh sh shhh, s'alright, love. You're safe. No one's in trouble and no one's going to harm you. I don't even know what's happened." Jenny stroked the back of Alira, trying to coax her to kneel up again, but her daughter just buried her head even deeper into her skirts.

Eventually, Strax thudded to the kitchen and stood just outside of the doorway, half obscured from view.

Jenny glared furiously at him, maternal rage poised for attack. "Strax. What on earth have you been doin' leaving Alira alone while she's so upset? Why weren't you already here?"

Strax look awkwardly around him, and stammered out his excuse. "Er, Madame left strict instructions that I was to leave any explanations of the glories of war and killing unto her, or yourself. So I, well, I left the girl alone to wait for your return and explanations."

Jenny stared incredulously at the Sontoran. "You're a trained nurse! You're meant to care and comfort those who're in pain. Not abandon them for some ble-, some blooming duty!" She was finding it hard to reign in her tongue in front of Alira; strong language was not the best comfort.

Strax scuffed his feet. "I believed it was best that I remove myself from the situation lest I embark on sharing my first wondrous experience of killing... I, er, thought being her first kill, the honour was due to you, her progenitor."

Momentarily perplexed as she was, Jenny's reason returned to remind her that Sontorans weren't exactly the most affectionate or maternal of beings in the universes. However, in his own bizarre way, the spudlian Strax had been trying to show concern and respect for her and Vastra's wishes that he not illuminate their daughter of the truthful ugliness of battle or death.

Jenny tersely nodded her approval. "What's this death and killing you saw, then?" She was alarmed and tried to draw Alira closer to her upper body.

"I saw the youngling sitting on the floor, there was a dead vermin lying in front of her, and she was asking for me to revive it with my portable medical apparatus device. She said she wanted it to move again. I assumed that she was the cause, so I told her…. well, I may have mentioned, er, that it was dead." Strax guiltily admitted.

He could be easily forgiven for using words like death and killing around Alira - it was hardly surprising since a glorious death was still a cherished fantasy of his. The critical point that he adhere to was to leave the explanation of the underlying concept of death to Vastra and Jenny. As far as Alira was concerned, an honourable Sontoran soldier's death was not to become her life's ambition by his influence!

""S'alright, Strax. Thank you for waiting until I came home before saying anything." And thank you for not making the situation any worse, she thought. "Although next time, I do expect you to remain and give Alira comfort - you don't have to use words for that! However, considering today's effort, you may have one sherbet fancy now and one later this evening, as thanks."

Strax grinned greedily, and quickly scuttled to the larder to retrieve the hidden tin and his prize. As he re-emerged to return to his bedroom once again, Jenny eyed him accusingly at his apparent knowledge of her secret stash of sweets. It seemed she would have to find a new place to secrete them.

Alira shuddered into her Mama's lap, drawing Jenny's attention back to her.  
"Sweetie. Are you alright, darlin'? Tell me what happened?"

Alira let out a sob, and shook her buried head.

"Strax said there was a dead mouse in front of you. You wanted to make it move again. Is that true?"

The girl stiffened, curling even further into herself.

"Did you catch Mr Mouse today?" She ventured, softly. "..Did you kill him?"

Alira shivered, building into a tremulous shake. "I'm a bad person, Mama!" She eventually wailed, pulling her green, crested head up and away from her mother, turning to hide her face in shame, clutching her hands and their concealed contents to her chest.

"Oh sweetie, oh oh oh. You aren't bad, my love, no." She pulled her daughter back into her, seating her on her own lap, so that Jenny could look at her daughter's face and comfort her simultaneously.

"You and Mummy said that I couldn't play hunt inside the house," Alira wetly sniffed, "but when you went away I found Mr Mouse and chased him, and then I caught him and squeezed him by accident and now he's dead and it's all my fault and I'm bad, Mama, I'm a bad person!" She gushed out in one long gasp.

Laying her hands in her lap, Alira uncurled her fingers to reveal the tiny dead body of said mouse. Jenny could see that it's skull had been partially caved in, crushed by impact with what was likely Alira's hand. Old and dried blood had also crusted around its eyes, nose and mouth, suggesting it had probably been squeezed to death - the applied pressure to its body finding release in the natural sculpted outlets of its skull. It would have been a grisly sight to any person of any age unacquainted with or normalised to violence. Fortunately, in this case, Jenny had seen far worse.

"Yes, you did break the house rule of not hunting inside the house, against what Mummy and I told you." Jenny conceded, "but while that behaviour is wrong, that doesn't make you wrong, or a bad person."

"But he's dead! I made him dead." Alira cried out, once again cradling the deceased mouse close to her body.

Jenny sighed and hugged her daughter closer to her, resting her chin on Alira's crests. She now had the task of considering carefully what her next words would be, and how much she should explain. For Jenny and Vastra, being from the ilk of separate species, there were a few major points of difference regarding their respective societal and personal opinions about death and killing. To maintain neutrality, they had agreed at least while Alira was young and unaware of the human-eating part of her Silurian heritage, they would stick to the basic scientific knowledge pertaining to Earth's recent animal kingdom: the kingdom in which humans were at the top of the food chain.

"Well, Alira.. Mum and I both knew you were going to catch the mouse soon. And that it would probably die. That means it can't ever wake up again." Jenny began, tentatively. "Every plant, animal, insect, human, Silurian and creature living, each one is born, lives, and dies. Sometimes death comes from growing old; sometimes it's from getting really sick; sometimes death comes from defending yourself against grave danger; and, sometimes death happens when one creature is hungry, and wants to eat another for food."

Jenny deliberately overlooked the more sinister causes of death. In both human and Silurian life, death was often inflicted as punishment -justly, arbitrarily or cruelly- or for sport and entertainment. Once again Jenny was overcome with the strange maternal urge to protect her daughter's innocence. Yes, she was becoming privy to death and life's fragility, but as for the blackness hiding in every heart, Alira didn't need to learn of the bleakness of the world, not yet. Life would have plenty of opportunities to demonstrate that, without any encouragement from Jenny.

Bringing back her explanation to Alira's context and wanting to infuse some levity, Jenny summarised. "When you saw the mouse, your clever squishy brain," Jenny playfully tickled Alira's crests, "decided Mr Mouse looked very tasty, and without you realising it, told you to catch him so you could eat him."

A little alarmed, Alira countered. "But I didn't want to eat him, Mammy. I didn't want to make the mouse dead."

"No, I believe you didn't. But your brain has its own ideas of how you should act, sometimes without you even thinking or wanting to. They're called instincts, and eating is one of them. Your instincts tell you to eat food when you get hungry, so that's why your tummy gets all rumbly and grumbly like a lion!"

Alira looked confused . "So my in-stinks told me to catch Mr Mouse and eat him, even though I didn't want to.. They must be very sneaky. I only wanted to catch him and then play again. I liked Mr Mouse.. he was my friend."

She appeared torn, grappling with another significant revelation. So, there was more than one person living in Alira's head: the normal her that wanted to play with the mouse, and the one that wanted to eat him.

In-stinks. She was unsettled at this discovery, and disconcerted that her instincts could act without her say-so.

Her developing four and a half year old mind rapidly spun its cogs to process the consequences of her dual nature, and extrapolated her limited experience to new scenarios. For example, it seemed very logical that if the "normal" her wanted to play with the mice, who were her friends, but her "in-stinks" wanted to eat the mice, still her friends, then that must mean she would surely want to eat every friend she played with. She didn't think it was normal for people to want to eat their friends. Her mothers had certainly never spoken of wanting to eat each other, and they were each other's best friend. How could she ever make friends with anyone if her brain only wanted her to eat them? Who would want to be friends with her?

"How can I play with mice if my in-stinks tell me to eat them? I don't want to eat my friends!" She desperately pleaded. She appeared afraid, almost ashamed, of this killing and eating aspect of herself.

Jenny paused, trying to understand the underlying feelings Alira was dealing with. The last thing she wanted her daughter to develop was shame about her nature; shame for being herself. Jenny had struggled enough with her own socially-instilled shame from falling in love with women; for something she had no power over. Shame, once established, was insidious and an incredibly tough and destructive thought pattern to break. Jenny had eventually overcome her own issues, but it had taken a long time, much effort and a gargantuan amount of patience from Vastra. Before meeting Vastra, Jenny had left a trail of confused and abandoned sweethearts, the relationship aborted on her own warpy perspective that she wasn't good enough for them.

"When you make new friends and want to play with them, you won't eat them, Alira. Your instincts might tell you they look tasty, and they might be too, but you don't have to act on that thought. You always have a choice: to listen to your instincts, or not."

Jenny stared down at her daughter's large, round hazel eyes; a perfect reflection of her own. They were uncertain, afraid.

"You know, I'm not surprised, shocked, or angry that you killed the mouse, Alira. That's just what happens. It's normal, love - it doesn't make you bad or wrong. Wanting to chase and hunt other animals for food is part of who you are." She paused. "In fact, you get it from your Mum."

Alira perked up at that news, sniffing away at the snot trailing down her nose. Her Mum chased and hunted animals just like she did? She wondered if her Mum ever ate any of her friends, or could she choose to ignore her instincts?

Jenny continued, "I am actually proud of you for catching the mouse, and all on your own, too." Jenny continued. "But, your Mum and I both wanted to be there with you, to teach you how to channel your instincts. That's why we're disappointed you broke the house rules. We wanted to teach you before we let you catch Mr Mouse - in case you didn't want to catch him."

Alira's eyes welled up with fresh tears. "I'm sorry I broke the rules, Mama. Mr Mouse wouldn't be dead if I followed them." She threw herself around Jenny's waist, as far as her short arms could reach.

"I forgive you, Alira. I still love you very, very much; that will never change. Your Mum and I set house rules for good reason, and we hope you will follow them from now on. … But, let's remember, Mr Mouse enjoyed a pretty good life here. Think about all of that cheese he nibbled!"

Alira gave a muffled, reluctant giggle in response.

"Mistakes happen, and we can't change them. But, we can learn from them and do better next time. Would you like to do better next time?"

Alira peered up, her big brown eyes glistening with fallen tears, and earnestly nodded her head.

"OK, well we can learn together how to do better for next time, and from now make sure we all follow the house rules." Jenny proposed. "As for your instincts, I know that your Mum is very good at deciding when to listen to her instincts. I also know she is very excited to teach you how to go hunting properly."

Alira's whole demeanour brightened up at that prospect. She absolutely adored her Mum for her green scales, just like her own; she was super strong, and had a long tongue just like Alira's would be one day. If her Mum could teach her to listen to her instincts, and teach her how to hunt and chase things properly, she would!

She started wringing her hands in anticipation, but felt the mouse in her palm, and was brought to a new dilemma. "What do we do with Mr Mouse now he's dead? I still don't want to eat him, I can't."

"That's alright. When people die we normally hold a special funeral for them.  
That means we can bury Mr Mouse in the back garden, under the oak tree, and say our goodbyes to him."

Alira pondered this funeral business, and decided that she did want to say goodbye to Mr Mouse, and wanted everyone to do something special for him.  
"Can we wait for Mummy?"

"Sure we can, darling, sure. Here, I'll put Mr Mouse in a special box until we're ready to bury him, all together. Now, pop ahead to the bathroom and we can get ourselves cleaned up."

Reverently handing the precious murine corpse over to Jenny, Alira rose from her seat on Jenny's lap, gave her Ma a wet kiss on the cheek, and made her way out of the kitchen to the bathroom. She felt comforted and soothed after the shock of her first killing. She wasn't bad; but she would learn to control these in-stinks of hers.

Relieved that the conversation had gone over relatively smoothly, Jenny was impressed with how well Alira had taken it - no apparent long-term emotional scarring seemed to be taking root. For a four-and-a-half year old, the sprout had coped amazingly well.

The finality of death must have gone over her head a bit, as she hadn't asked any questions about it. Yet her canny little mind had a deep and serious streak to her personality, and no doubt she would guard every word spoke and mull over its content - the questions would no doubt arrive later when she was ready to understand. However, she looked to be on the right path of learning from the experience, and escaping the insidious claws of shame.

Considering the dead mouse now awkwardly perched in her hand, unsure exactly of what 'special box' she was going to put it in, Jenny held its body away from herself as she one-handedly rummaged through the larder shelves and came across an empty cheese box. How fitting, she thought.

She settled the stiffened body into the wooden cheese box, and placed it inside the lockable ice chest stationed within the larder- there would be no rotting death fumes allowed in her house, and Vastra would be the first to mention something about it. She found an empty space amongst Vastra's emergency supplies of meat, and fit the miniature coffin snuggly in. The ice chest was kept locked in case of accidental opening; both Vastra and Jenny had no idea how to explain to Alira the fact that her Silurian Mum ate human meat, yet also maintained a happy marriage to one. Best leave that conversation for a long time in the future.

✹✹✹

Vastra returned home from work, Jenny shared the day's events through their regular psychic sharing, and a small hole was dug in the back garden under the shade of the oak tree. After more information regarding funerals was gathered from Jenny, Alira decided that everyone would be present, place a flower on Mr Mouse's grave, and say a special something. It was a serious and sombre affair.

"Dear Mr Mouse," Alira began, "I'm glad you were able to live with us for a short time. I hope you enjoyed our cheeses and I'm sorry I was angry at you for eating them. I liked playing and chasing you. You were a good friend. I'm sorry I killed you. I hope you can forgive me." She sniffed, and laid a dandelion on the cheese box, nestled into the hole.

Vastra came next. This ceremony was important to Alira, it was important that she learn to process death, and learn to cope in the absence of those she cared for, even if it was for a common household rodent. She cleared her throat, and dutifully addressed the remains of the dead mouse.

"Dear Mr Mouse, thank you for playing so many games with my daughter Alira. You were a very good friend to her, and she loved playing with you. She is very sad that you've died, and we all honour your short life on this Earth. May the Goddess welcome you home and return your body to the ground from which you were born." Vastra lay her dandelion down.

A reverential pause followed. And extended.

"Strax," Jenny whispered out the side of her mouth, and surreptitiously elbowed the spudlian butler, "it's your turn."

Strax straightened himself up and snapped to attention. "Er, Sir mouse. You were a brave and bold rival who fought valiantly in the face of perilous danger. Your undercover tactics and mission execution were almost indomitable. Ultimately, you met your destruction at the hands of a more worthy and capable opponent. We honour your fighting spirit." Secretly appalled by the dandelion in his hand, he quickly cast it onto the others and returned to his position.

Jenny stepped forward. "Dear Mr Mouse, thank you for making our daughter's life happier for being in it. Thank you for all of the lessons you taught her: to become the great huntress she will be, and to love the lives of her friends. She will miss you greatly, and we hope you have enough cheese wherever you are to keep you happy forever. May you rest in peace."

Jenny lay her dandelion down, and invited Alira to sprinkle some dirt on the box and say her last goodbye. That done, Jenny continued to bury the box completely, and placed on top the rock Alira had painted for a memorial.

With a sniff, Alira wished her mouse friend a fond farewell and hoped he was happy and playing with all of his new friends. She clung to Vastra's leg and let her tears fall freely.

✹✹✹

Later that night as young Alira lay in her bed, she waited for a sleep that never came. Images of the dead mouse, laying still in her hands, flashed and cycled through her mind. Dead. Mr Mouse would never live again. A great cloud of sadness settled over her thoughts, and all of a sudden she didn't want to be alone. She pushed the covers off her bed, sat up and swung her legs onto the floor.

As the rustling of her sheets subsided, Alira could hear a strange noise coming from the next room: her mothers' bedroom. The coils of their bed were lightly creaking, but to a lilting pattern. She could hear her Mama whimpering, gasping for breath. Her Silurian Mum was struggling and thrashing her body, her breathing muffled, punctuated by sudden ragged eruptions of breath. They sounded like they were in pain.

 _Mummies!_ Alira panicked. _Are they dying? No! Don't leave me!_

She bolted out of bed, raced to her door, reaching up to turn the doorknob and run left into the hallway towards the adjacent bedroom. She scrabbled with the doorknob, her nails clattering against the brass handle. Alira managed to purchase entry and swung the door open to face the four poster bed. "Mummies!" She yelled, anxiously.

There was a great flurry of activity in the bed at Alira's unexpected entrance. Vastra leapt forward into the space next to Jenny, turning her face away as she wiped her arm against her mouth; Jenny snatched at the sheets to pull them over her naked breasts. All women of the house were more than comfortable with their nakedness exclusively in each other's company, but Jenny's nipples had until a moment ago been receiving pleasurable attentions that left angry red welts around her areolas.

Alira rushed to the bed on Jenny's side. "Mama! Mummy! Are you ok? Please don't die mummies, please don't die!" She wailed.

Jenny looked across at Vastra, panting, exhaustion in her eyes. _I don't think I can handle explaining the meaning of death, and now sex, all in one day._

Vastra wordlessly agreed and accepted the request to explain.

"Everything is alright, Alira. Your mother and I aren't dying, we're safe. We were just having.. a private wrestle, is all. Neither of us is hurt and we aren't dying. It's just a special way for us to say that we love each other."

Alira sniffed away a tear, and nodded her head in relief.

Jenny, after having caught her breath at last, chimed in. "Are you still thinking about what happened to Mr Mouse?"

"Yes." She grieved. "I can't sleep. I see Mr Mouse whenever I close my eyes. It makes me sad. I don't want to be alone."

"Come up onto the bed, pet." Vastra called to her from across the bed. Alira jumped with her knees onto the edge of the bed, supported behind by Jenny's arm, and crawled her way above the covers over Jenny's body. Reaching the channel between them, she buried herself underneath the blankets and snuggled down onto her back.

"Dying is a very normal and natural part of life." Vastra answered, turning on to her side to face Alira, rubbing her hand comfortingly on the girls tummy. "As normal as going to sleep at night is. You are right: one day, Mama and I will die, and you will you too. But by the Goddess, that won't be for a very, very long time yet. There's far too much life to be had until then."

"But, if you die… I won't see you anymore." She looked forlornly into Vastra's eyes, reaching out to clasp both hers and Jenny's arm.

Vastra hesitated, then shook her head. "No. You won't see the real us anymore, when we die. But there are many things you can do to remember us by. You can take a photograph of us together so you can always see our faces. You can write down stories of every time we laugh together, we cry together, we play together - these moments you can cherish forever in your memory."

Alira paused, the cogs of her mind churning this new information over. "But.. If you die, I won't stop crying. How do we feel better? How will we say I love you?"

Vastra was taken aback by the emotional poignancy of her hatchling's question. For all of her naïve and impulsive innocence, she did have remarkable insight and ability to understand emotions appropriate to novel situations. The pain of loss that haunted Vastra for her own passed sisters stirred in her chest and caught in her throat. She cleared it before she took a deep breath to answer the question.

"Well. The most important thing to do when you need our love, and want to share yours, is to close your eyes and imagine we are standing right behind you, giving you a really tight hug. Think about the feeling of warmth in your heart, and the loving squeeze in your body whenever we tell you we love you. Because even though we might be dead, we won't ever stop loving you. We know you won't ever stop loving us."

Jenny wiped the couple of tears that had trickled silently down her own cheek as Vastra was explaining. Her heart broke for the pain that Vastra carried of her sisters' deaths, crushed in their sleep, alone in the depths of the Underground. Forever she was cut off from her own people, the community she grew up with and learnt to hunt from - Jenny knew she still felt their absence keenly. She gently reached out her left arm to tenderly hold Vastra's exposed cheek, her thumb lovingly stroking her cheekbones as Vastra fell into a reflective silence.

"The important thing to remember, Alira," Jenny took over, "is that although everyone will die, everyone also has their own life to live, first. There is a lot of laughing, loving, working, fighting, creating, rebuilding, and living to do before any of us goes to sleep for the last time. And when the time does come for us to die, we hope we can say goodbye to each other. But even if we can't, we will never ever stop loving you. Not even death can stop us from that."

Alira gave a shuddering sigh, and seemed to accept what her mothers had told her. That she would never stop being loved by them, that she could continue loving them when they died, was a relief and a great source of comfort.

"I will always love you, too, mummies." She wriggled to settle herself further into a more comfortable position, snuggling in tight between her mums. She shut her eyes, finding a peace with the now less imminent prospect of death, and their assured continuance of love. In a very short time she had dropped off into a light sleep, and soon after her breathing slowed down to a steady, slumbering rhythm.

Vastra looked up from watching her sleeping hatchling, to gaze at Jenny's soft face. Their eyes locked together, a blend of sorrow and hope, and without requiring words leaned their heads together above Alira's own to kiss each other tenderly, passionately, pouring their love, vulnerability, fear, excitement, pain, despair and joy into each other. A suspended state of perfect fusion: comforting and comforted. After a long moment, they slowly and carefully pulled their lips away. Vastra fluttered her eyes open. She parted her lips and silently mouthed, _I love you, Jenny. With all my heart._ Jenny in turn responded, _I love you, Vastra. With all of mine._

Reaching their free arms across to settle on Alira's tummy, they linked their little fingers and gently squeezed. Then they closed their eyes, and relaxed into sleep's gradual descent.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of having a chapter/segment that follows Vastra's perspective. Sadly, she's just a working parent who drifts in and out, at the moment.  
> Anyhow, I hope I haven't lost the plot yet!


End file.
